‘Wet Grass’

A poem.

In Normand Park the grass is very wet.

It rained all night; for half the morning, too.

Predictably the cats were both upset.

I told them, ‘Girls, there’s nothing I can do.’

But as for you, you looked ridiculous:

So sopping wet, dressed up in soggy things –

You, who is always so meticulous

And so prepared for that which each day brings.

All this amused me such a huge amount

That I could not stop smiling all today.

In fact, I had to rack my brains to count

The times I’ve seen you in such disarray.

I know this, thinking of you all soaked through:

That I am really very fond of you.